


Demonstration

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Finger Sucking, Hawke is a little shit, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Reading, Romantic Fluff, Snarky Hawke, except much reading doesn't happen thank you teacher Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"‘... he began to realize this as his lover's hand began to crawl with a certainty up his... toned thigh...’" And Fenris's words were not only dissuaded by the nagging question in his brain - <i>what am I reading? </i>- but by Hawke mirroring the motion that Fenris had just read, and the man's hand crept up his thigh. </p>
</blockquote><br/><hr/><p><br/>Or: Hawke decides Isabela's dirty books are the books Fenris should be learning to "read."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demonstration

"A new book?" Fenris inquired, certain his eyes were expressing his evident confusion as he looked up at Hawke. "But we haven't finished the other one."

Hawke smiled in such a way that it instantly brought the elf to mind that the Champion was again up to something, and that he was only going to be caught up in the tidal wave that it brought. "That's fine," Hawke said, brushing off Fenris's concern. "We _can_ read more than one book at a time, you know."

Fenris suspected that people very much could, and that people very much did, but reading one book was time-consuming if not still frustrating to him, nevermind two. Still, Hawke was his tutor and he the pupil, and so Fenris nodded, and held out his hand for the nondescript book. "There is no title?" He brushed lithe fingers over the cover of the book, but no familiar print or engraving met his fingertips.

"Some books do not need titles," Hawke explained. It seemed less simple than that, but Fenris would take his word. Hawke propped his hand on the desk, leaning over the elf to flip to a pre-marked page in the text. "We'll begin here."

Fenris turned his head to put himself squarely nose-to-nose with the man knelt over his shoulder, and raised an eyebrow in sarcastic question. "I suppose not all books need to be read from the beginning?"

That grin did not bode well for anyone, and the way that it was turned onto Fenris gave way into narrowed eyes. "You've caught on well, Fenris," Hawke said, then gently nodded his head towards the book. An invitation that was less an invitation and more of a demand to read, and the elf would not cease his suspicion any time tonight, it would seem.

He would humor him. Whatever this was, it was still reading practice - something Fenris was still in need of right now. "Very well." Fenris picked up the book and settled himself comfortably into the chair while Hawke removed himself to fetch his own seat.

It was easy to get himself lost in reading. Contrary to what he believed the point was, however, Fenris was lost within the words themselves, the pronunciation of consonants and silent vowels and being familiar with a word, but wondering how it could possibly be spelled such a way. The way certain letters and certain sounds tickled against his lips and the roof of his mouth, and the way he had to drag his tongue against his lips before sounding it out again, gentle coaxing with Hawke during the whole thing.

He could get so lost in words and sounds that he barely heard what he was reading. But this wasn't about the story, this was about the process.

"... mm."

"You know, you could do more than grunt at me when you don't understand a word," Hawke commented, playing with the edges of Fenris's hair.

Fenris turned his head slightly. "I don't understand," he said clearly, succinctly, and without emotion.

That grin, it would be the death of him.

"You know this," Hawke said. "Just sound it out."

"I did. It doesn't sound right."

"You sounded it out?" Hawke looked at him in false surprise. "Did I go momentarily deaf?"

Fenris scowled. "‘Car.’"

"Yes."

"‘Ess.’"

"Yes."

"‘Ed.’"

"Yes," Hawke drawled.

"And that doesn't sound like a word," Fenris retorted.

"Remember how ‘e-d’ can have different sounds? Not just the solid ‘ed’?" Hawke explained. "Look at it like this: replace the second ‘s’ with a ‘t’ sound, and ignore the ‘ed’, and maybe that will help you." Hawke was not the best of teachers, even if Fenris did now know infinitely more than he had.

Fenris turned back to the book, eyebrows pinched together. "‘Car... car... car-est, carest, caressed." He raised his head. "Caressed?"

Hawke smiled; this time, it was a smile, and not the grin he had been wearing since he'd handed him the book. A genuine smile, one that was reserved for when he was happy, content, proud. It was opposite the kind of smile that could put fear in the hearts of even the Qunari, and Fenris straightened with warmth on his face at the approval.

"It's completely unnecessary, the extra letters and sounds that are not consistent," he said, instead.

"Keep reading," Hawke encouraged, and Fenris could not refuse him.

"‘ _Caressed_ his face softly before... leaning to ca... capture his lips in a...’ pass, no, passion, ‘passionate kiss.’" Fenris stared at the sentence for moment longer before looking up, the words beginning to filter through his mind as an actual story and not an assignment. "What-"

He was surprised into silence at the soft touch of Hawke's calloused fingers against his cheek, hands hardened by work and war brushing against his skin with the softest of touches. He recognized the devotion behind the touch, one usually saved for tender moments between their daily adventures, and then recognized the intention behind Hawke's gaze as the man leaned over and kissed him.

There was nothing quite like kissing Hawke. There was never anything quite like kissing to begin with, as Fenris had been told about the nerves in a person's lips and such a thing stimulation to them could do. And Fenris did enjoy the kissing, once he got over the initial, sickening swoop in his stomach as lips pressed against his without his own initiation. Hawke's dark eyes, the sensation of his beard against his skin, the scent of him invading every personal sense snapped Fenris back into the reality that he was kissing _Hawke_ , and then things were okay.

Kissing Hawke was both terrifying and thrilling at the same time. As was most things with their Champion.

But there was a point to this exercise, to his visit, and as much as it was thrilling, Fenris had not come here to kiss Hawke. He made a soft noise and the man pulled away lazily, although without delay, and gazed at Fenris with such a look that made the elf want to launch himself from the chair and flee if only to spare himself the embarrassment. He wasn't used to people looking at him with anything less than malice, or spite.

"... I am reading," Fenris said.

"I know." Hawke gestured to the book, and leaned his shoulder against Fenris's. "Pray continue."

Fenris passed his tongue over his lips, tasting the lingering sensation of Hawke there, before he cleared his throat slightly and looked at the small words on the pages again. "‘The intention of this purpose was not, however... meant for...’" Again words failed him, which blunted into another frustrated groan that he could not quite stifle. The kiss from Hawke had been a pleasant distraction, but he was losing patience with words that had too many letters.

"‘Trivialities.’"

"‘Trivialities,’" Fenris echoed. "‘The intention of this purpose was not, however, meant for... trivialities, and Andon began to realize this as his lover's hand began to crawl with a certainty up his... toned thigh...’" And Fenris's words were not only dissuaded by the nagging question in his brain - _what am I reading?_ \- but by Hawke mirroring the motion that Fenris had just read, and the man's hand crept up his thigh.

"Hawke," he complained, although Hawke did not remove his hand. There was the usual sly look in the man's gaze, only underlaid by a certain wariness that spoke he would pull away if Fenris desired it. "... Where did you get this book?" It was obvious from the moment he asked it, and he sighed and answered the question for himself. "Isabela."

"She's kind to me," Hawke replied with a knowing grin.

"Yes," Fenris replied, with only a hint of distastefulness. "I can see how kind."

"Continue," Hawke urged. "It's a most arousing tale." Having the audacity to look pleased at his own double meaning.

"Evidently," Fenris muttered, all too aware of the press of Hawke's hand on his leg as he continued the story. "‘Ryes was not shy, and Andon was wanting. It was nearly too much to bear... skin against his, when he had been alone for so long... He was wanting, and he was needy. The first press of Ryes's hand against his-’ _Hawke_!" The name tumbled from his lips in a gasp; his first reaction was to allow his head to fall back, but also to swipe at his cheeky partner with the book still held in hand.

"Against his Hawke? Sounds lovely."

"What are you doing?" Fenris hissed. "I thought we were working on my reading."

"We are," Hawke replied. "I'm teaching by example."

" _That_ is not helping me learn to _read_ \- That's distracting me!" He swatted at him again, and despite the solid smack of the book against Hawke's forearm, the Champion continued to grin like the cat who had gotten the cream. Unperturbed.

What an...

Fenris grumbled under his breath.

"I think the next words are ‘throbbing manhood’," Hawke remarked lightly, and Fenris slammed bony knees against the underside of the desk as the man again palmed him through his breeches. "Not the most tasteful, but then, it is Isabela's pick."

"Is there much... _literature_ like this?" Fenris asked shortly.

"If you know where to look."

"Ah... _ah_." The book fell haphazardly onto the desk and bounced off; Fenris did not hasten to catch it as Hawke spun him around on the stool to kiss him. It was different to their earlier kiss. It was more accurate to say that _this_ kiss was the passionate one, and while Hawke's hands did not _caress_ Fenris's face, his fingers were curled around one of his shoulders. He could easily hold him in place, demand what he wanted of him; Fenris was strong, but Hawke was bigger. He never did.

The hand on his shoulder was strong and tenuous, and warm and soft and comforting. The tingle from the warmth of skin against skin, from Hawke's hands on his shoulders to Hawke's kiss against his lips was spreading; Fenris reached up for Hawke's hair, slipping his fingers into the dark locks.

"I did not intend the evening to go this way," he commented, tilting his head as Hawke pressed kisses along his jaw.

"I might have."

"Something did give it away." Fenris was still aware of the heavy presence of Hawke's hand resting against his thigh, fingers pressing against his skin. Lying in wait. He shivered at the warm pass of Hawke's tongue against his neck. "I wonder what," he continued.

Hawke licked against a line of lyrium against Fenris's throat. Fenris swallowed and tugged at Hawke's hair, pulling him back to his lips. They were at somewhat of a height difference, even more than usual, and Fenris was glad for the seat Hawke had chosen for himself, one that allowed for Fenris to rise from the stool and melt into Hawke's lap, trapping the Champion between his legs. He did not break the kiss, and both of them were breathing in short pants by the time Hawke was sucking lightly at elf's lower lip and working his way into his mouth with that devilish tongue of his.

"I _am_ teaching you, though," Hawke said, when he broke away for air.

"But not about reading," Fenris retaliated, chasing away saliva from his lips with a pass of his hand. There was a speck of blood, and he traced the tip of his tongue over the spot on his lip where Hawke had bitten.

A lazy grin. "Using your imagination is an integral part of reading."

Fenris smirked and turned his head away. He would not reward Hawke's snark with comment, but instead rolled his hips against the insistent erection straining at Hawke's trouser fronts. And _relished_ in the moan Hawke gave, more than he would admit. "My imagination does paint a pretty picture," Fenris growled, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He ground his hips again, twisting a piece of Hawke's hair around his fingers. "Isabela's books are tasteless," he said slowly. "I'm sure I could come up with something better."

"I'm sure you could com-"

Fenris cut him off by pressing a finger against his lips. "If that is about to be another indecent comment, you really have been spending too much time with her. I might be jealous."

That blinding smile, and Hawke nipped at Fenris's fingertip.

Fenris knew where that was heading. Kisses and playful bites to the whorls and swirls of Fenris's fingers before they were accepted between Hawke's lips. To the first knuckle, and then the second, and Fenris curled his fingers as the Champion's tongue searched his skin and his teeth grazed his flesh and Hawke sucked against his fingertips.

" _Venhedis_."

"I agree," Hawke replied lowly, pulling off of his fingers.

"You don't know what it means."

"I still agree."

Fenris looked down at Hawke, dark eyes and deep voice and the red stained across his cheeks. Chest heaving. Breath whisking in and out through parted lips that begged to be kissed again, and Fenris was lost; he was gorgeous.

Hawke was looking back at him with the same sort of reverence on his face, a look that would forever make Fenris uncomfortable purely because he was unused to seeing it meant for _him_. Fenris wasn't good enough for that kind of look from this kind of man; yet he received it. And cherished it.

He did love this man.

"We should take this to the bedroom," Hawke suggested, and kissed Fenris's palm.

His interrupted reading mattered no longer. He didn't need to be able to read or write if he had this man at his side, able to touch and be touched, love and be loved. Surely Hawke's presence was all that mattered. " _Yes_."

"Thank the Maker!" Hawke replied, hands sliding beneath Fenris's thighs to haul him up and into his arms as he stood.

Fenris shifted, although not so much to be dropped. "I _can_ walk," he sulked, and pressed his lips together in what was assuredly not a pout.

"For now."

The taunt, a threat or promise?, would have once made him freeze. In a different place, a different time, coming from a different voice. But this was Hawke, and this was his home (for every purpose of the word). Fenris was safe here.

And just the right level of sarcasm to romance blunted it into an inferior joke, and Fenris retaliated with one means at his disposal;

he bit him.

When he hit the floor, he had no right to complain. He did so, anyway.

 

 

They didn't make it to the bedroom, and that was perfectly okay, too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think I intended this to be more smutty. Ah well. I'm sure 50x versions of this has been written, but have another. xD
> 
> I do not own _Dragon Age II_. Thanks for reading!


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